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11 June 2010

Colin Firth – extended interview

A longer version of this week's NS interview.

By Sophie Elmhirst

You’ve campaigned on social issues for years. What sparked your political interest?
Adolescent indignation. I’ve never grown out of it. My father’s balanced and complex reasoning used to drive me insane. I now value it. Also travel, and having questioning parents.

In 1972-73 I was in the States. My father, being a lecturer in American history, sat me in front of the Watergate hearings and took me to hear Senator McGovern speak. My father was the chairman of the local Liberals and took me canvassing.

As a Liberal Democrat supporter, do you feel let down by the decision to form a coalition?
I approached the Lib Dems as an activist. So I didn’t exactly feel like throwing confetti when I saw Nick Clegg on the lawn with David Cameron.

Who is your political hero, and why?
I’m always encouraged by people who get more radical as they get older, like Mark Twain and Howard Zinn. Also David Henry Thoreau: I love his undertaking to “live deliberately”.

You recently set up Brightwide, a website that showcases political cinema. Why?
When my wife and I screened our documentary, In Prison My Whole Life, at film festivals the response was extraordinary — particularly among young people. Answers as to how to direct that passion were in short supply. We were being asked, “Where do we march? What do we sign? Who do we join? Who do we write to?” It was all too evident that a 90-minute film had the power to motivate people, but that there was no satisfactory way to harness that motivation.

NGOs often rely on slogans, posters — and celebrity campaigners — which, in my experience, have less impact. Brightwide allows one to facilitate the other. The likes of me can shut up and let the stories speak for themselves. Civil society organisations and institutions can direct people towards films to help make their case and the audience can be guided to where the action is. It’s supported by Amnesty International, Oxfam and the World Wide Fund for Nature.

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What sparked your interest in refugees?
My parents and several grandparents [going back generations] were born in India. My sister was born in Nigeria. We travelled a great deal. It helped give me something of the perspective of the outsider. My mother campaigned for the rights of refugees, some of whom were guests in our house. You can’t dismiss people as a political problem once you know them.

What influence can films have on the way we think about these issues?
“Issues” always have personal stories behind them. Film provides intimacy with those stories and a chance to weigh things up without being badgered by attitude. Oscar Wilde enjoyed dialogue because in using more than one voice, more than one point of view, he could take issue with himself. A genuinely good film is never purely polemical. Ninety minutes allows for conflicting points of view.

Can film have a social and political impact?
Yes. The banning of films throughout history, and the rage they can ignite in the press, shows that — from Battleship Potemkin to Life of Brian. Think of the clamour in the right-wing press against The Wind that Shakes the Barley. I experienced it personally many years ago with a film about the Falklands war called Tumbledown. There were cries for it to be banned before it was screened. It was discussed in the Commons. Did it change anything? By itself, I doubt it. But I run into people who remember it and its impact on them. That’s why we’re screening a thematic film festival during Refugee Week.

Which films have that kind of impact for you?
The Grapes of Wrath, The Battle of Algiers. Most of all, Come and See, a Soviet-endorsed film by Elem Klimov. Currently, The Age of Stupid and The End of the Line, both of which you can see on Brightwide. I remember, when I was about eight, kids in the playground talking about All Quiet on the Western Front. Some had become rather sanctimonious and were lecturing the boys playing war games that they didn’t “know what war is”.

Which directors do you admire who work in this way, and on these subjects?
All those on Brightwide, obviously. That’s why they’re there: Michael Winterbottom, Franny Armstrong, Gini Reticker, Rupert Murray, John Akomfrah, Bahman Ghobadi. Also Lynne Ramsay, Antonia Bird, Nick Broomfield, John Crowley, Ken Loach, Mark Evans . . .

What do you most object to about how we respond to refugees in the UK?
I set up Brightwide so I wouldn’t have to subject people to my own views. But if I were to say something, I’d mention the demonisation of refugees by the right-wing press. Labour and the Tories have let the tabloids frame their immigration policies. I’d say something about the lack of legal representation. The calculated impoverishment of asylum-seekers. The appalling practice of seizing and locking up asylum-seeking families in conditions proven to wreck their mental health even though it’s known that families don’t abscond. I’d also remind the new government that it has pledged to stop child detention, which needs to happen quickly.
But thankfully I don’t have to say any of that. I can just urge you to go to Brightwide and watch films like Moving to Mars: a Million Miles from Burmaand No One Knows About Persian Cats.

Immigration became an important topic in the recent election campaign. How did you feel about the different parties’ approaches?
The current system incentivises black-market labour and human trafficking. The amnesty would have made complete sense — on both economic and compassionate grounds. It was very courageous of Nick Clegg and the Lib Dems to defend such an electorally costly idea during the election. I think they were punished for it.

What do you think about the proposed cap on immigration?
It’s a pity for us. There are so many arguments about the figures relating to net contributions made by migrants, that it seems clear that people choose the maths which best suits their ideology or prejudice. By that reasoning — and not being an economist — I tend to go for the countless studies which find economic benefit in immigration. The humanitarian argument holds the balance.

Is our political/media culture a healthy one?
I wish the establishment was more courageous about the reactionary press. But I spend enough time in Italy to be thankful for what we have.

You have played a wide range of roles. What draws you to a particular part?
I love the quotation from Miles Davis, “Don’t play what you know — play what you don’t know.” Easier said than done. Typecasting always beckons.

You were nominated for an Oscar for your role in A Single Man. What was the motivation for doing that role?
Good tale. No self-pity. It seemed an exhilarating risk. Tom Ford is a very compelling individual.

Do you feel like you are still trying to shed the legacy of Mr Darcy?
People increasingly ask me about Mr Darcy as if he’s dandruff. My memory isn’t good enough to have any real feelings on the matter. I imagine people with dandruff are also blissfully unaware of what they’re carrying around.

If you hadn’t been an actor, what would you have done, or be doing?
I’d be a squeegee merchant on the Euston Road.

Will you always be an actor, or will you try something else?
I’ve tried writing. I’m still trying — I’ve published one short story in 50 years. That gives you an idea of my pace.

Do the arts get enough support in the UK?
If you ask me, you’ll only get special pleading. Gordon Brown pledged £45m to the BFI last year, which was significant. But there needs to be more to enable them to function fully. Anthony Minghella and Amanda Nevill fought very hard to get those funds in order to build a new Film Centre in London. I very much hope this will happen. It will be the first major, stand-alone, new cultural building in London for a very long time. It should be a proper home for the film industry, the BFI London Film Festival, the nation’s film collections and their year-round programmes.
I’d love to see an international beacon for film in Britain. It’s rather surprising that we don’t already have such a thing.

Where is home?
London.

What would you like to forget?
A poor memory is a very good anaesthetic.

Is there a plan?
Not really. I’m sure you can tell.

Are we all doomed?
Oh, I think so — but we ought to drag it out as long as possible.

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